


Little Red Soul

by Catsitta



Series: Assorted Oneshots [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mobfell (Undertale), Angst, Bad Ending, Body Horror, Dark, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Drama, F/M, Fairy Tale Style, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22693768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta
Summary: “My what big teeth you have,” said the girl to the wolf.“All the better to eat you with, my dear,” he replied, grinning ever wider.Toriel did her best to shelter Frisk from the harshest realities of the city, but when she falls ill, it’s up to Frisk to get her medicine. Armed with only a basket of baked goods and a name, she braves those dangerous streets with old warnings loud in her ear.Trust no one. Don’t stay out after dark. And whatever you do, never turn your back on a gangster.Mobfell!Frans | Oneshot | Frans Week 2020
Relationships: Frisk/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Assorted Oneshots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413808
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	Little Red Soul

Gilt rays of sunlight painted the city in shades of gold and blood, shadows stretching long in tainted crimson, the open spaces bright and blinding. The days were growing cold and short. Frisk did not have much time before the sun was gone and she’d be plunged into lamplit haze of night, all but the more questionable businesses in the monster district closed until morning. She clutched her basket tight, scurrying faster, worn leather shoes too loud against the street, her red cloak too bright in the monochrome squalor. Times were hard. Work scarce. And tensions between humans and monsters higher than ever. It wouldn’t do for anyone here to notice her all-too-human Soul and rip it from her chest.

Frisk swallowed, one hand at her throat, clasped around her mother’s necklace. The little golden pendant was half of a matched pair that once belonged to Toriel’s son, Asriel, and adoptive child, Chara. Toriel was rare to speak more of them than that. And it was always in bitterness she warned that humans were ruthless and ignorant, and monsters were the same, corrupted by association. She’d then coo over Frisk, pet her hair, her face, and assure her that she’d never be hurt, never be corrupted. Human she may be, but she was but a babe when Toriel found her in that box on the street, so she was redeemable. Frisk slowly grew aware of her mother’s grief stricken madness, but instead of abandoning her, even when she came of age, Frisk remained, not wanting the old, lonely goat woman to be alone again. Then she took ill. Terribly ill. No potion or tincture chased away the weakness and delirium. 

She’d been taught enough about monsters to know the signs of Falling. And if she didn’t restore Toriel’s HoPe, she’d surely dust. So Frisk packed up as many baked goods from around their home as she could into a basket, hoping to barter for some medicine. Where she would find it? Well...She wasn’t exactly sure. All Frisk had was a name. A murmur she caught late at night when Toriel was on the phone. A name uttered in half-breaths as she tossed in her fevered sleep. 

Sans. 

Sheltered as she was from the world, Frisk’s only hope was forged on that name and what she gleaned from books and radio shows. People who knew people were always found at speakeasies and dancing halls. Though in her ear old warnings rang clear, from when her mother first allowed her to go to the grocers in the human district by herself.

Trust no one. Don’t stay out after dark. And whatever you do, never turn your back on a gangster.

Well mama, Frisk found herself thinking wryly. I’m going to have to break that first rule.

She didn’t know any other monsters, much less how to navigate their part of the city to find the kind of medicine Toriel needed. Which meant her best option was to find this Sans fellow and hope he would help once he heard Toriel’s name. May God have mercy on someone (anyone) in these hard times. 

Frisk was fortunate that nobody accosted her as she roamed unfamiliar streets. A stray human wandering on this side of town? It was inviting trouble. But onward she moved until she found a long strip of shops, the glow of windows as tempting as flames to a moth. Like Icarus and his wax wings, she could very well be flying too close to the proverbial sun, her ignorant desperation the inevitable catalyst to her falling to her demise. But what other choice did she have? Turn around and watch Toriel die? No. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that. Frisk braced herself and strode down the street, the painted sign that read Grillby’s filling her with DETERMINATION. Through the walls she could hear music and muffled voices, and squinting through smoke-stained glass, she could see that the restaurant was hopping.

She swallowed and tugged her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose, tugged her hood even lower, hoping that it was enough. With her head low, she pushed open the door and plunged in, senses overworked in an instant, all the scents and sights and noises hitting her like a thunderclap. A few patrons glanced her way, but most let her pass without so much as feigned interest, too busy with their meals or chatting up the scantily clad waitresses. Frisk’s face heated. Monsters had fewer hang ups about modesty than humans since many couldn’t even wear clothes, but seeing a curvy rabbit lady in little more than ribbons and feathers was...shocking. Her mother was a prim woman, clad in feminine suits she sewed herself, modeled after what some of the famous actresses wore in those fancy magazines. 

Frisk skittered to the bar, which of course was only used for serving food if anybody who wasn’t a certain somebody asked. There were a few monsters there. All men. A bear sat drinking what looked suspiciously like a beer, a vivid blue fire elemental cleaning a class and nodding as he spoke. There was also a wolf devouring a burger. And a skeleton. A large, broad, suit-clad skeleton with rings on his phalanges and a shot glass in hand full of something yellow. Frisk froze. The fancy clothes. The jewelry. Her eyes trailed to his crooked smile full of sharp teeth, a falsie gleaming at the corner of his mouth. She didn’t need to CHECK the guy to know he was trouble. Not when he looked just like those human gangsters she once ran into at the ice cream parlor. They had been throwing around names and making the owner paler than Mr. Bones here, and Frisk could see the outline of guns under their jackets. Nobody packing heat in this city was ever up to any good. Not even the folks that were supposed to protect the citizens.

Backing away slowly and going somewhere else to look for answers was looking like a better idea every second, but Frisk steeled her spine and strode up to the barman, careful to keep her head low. “Excuse me, I know this may seem strange, but I’m looking for someone and am wondering if you might be able to point me in the right direction. It’s a long shot but…” The blue elemental turned to face her, his flames flickering a little as soon as his featureless visage scanned her form. She shivered, heart pounding, hands clammy.

“Grillby says to go on and ask, little missy,” chirped a bird monster nearby. Oh, he was Grillby, as in the name on the wall. Well then. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone named...Sans?”

The bird monster’s beak dropped open and Grillby paused, and she had a feeling she was being stared at. What had she said? Why were they looking at her like that? Just as she was about to turn tail and run, a low, masculine chuckle broke the tension, before rumbling into barks of outright laughter. It was the skeleton man. The probably-a-gangster skeleton man. Frisk scowled behind her scarf as she watched him double over the bar and wheeze, banging his fist on the top. Was he drunk? A good minute later he collected himself enough to look at her and wipe a fake tear from his socket.

“You done?” Frisk found herself asking hotly, arms crossed, her better sense demanding she leave now.

He snickered and that grin of his somehow widened, every pointed tooth on full display. She suddenly felt small. Very small. Like he was going to open his maw wide and gobble her up whole. Instead, he thrust out a hand, “hey dollface, nice to meet’cha. the name’s sans. sans the skeleton.” Oh. OH! Was it really possible that this was her mother’s friend? Maybe Sans was a common monster name and the skeleton man found it funny since he was called the same as the person she was looking for. Noticing her hesitation, his eyelights narrowed, “well, go on, shake my hand. not gonna bite ya.” She lifted a gloved palm and he grabbed it, gripping her fingers tight as he pulled her closer, his breath hot on her face, “well, not unless ya ask me real nice.”

Frisk yanked back her hand and refrained from slapping him for his audacity. Hitting men wearing suits would get her in trouble. Powerful men didn’t like it when little ladies got smart and made them look the fool in front of their peers. 

“well, go on, whatcha lookin’ for me fer?”

“I, well, I don’t know if it’s YOU I’m looking for per se,” Frisk demurred. “But my mother is ill and I’m looking for a friend of hers whose name is Sans.”

Sans tipped his hat back, crimson eyelights like flames, his stare a little too rapt, his smile a little too knowing. When he got in her face, did he see her? Did he know she was human? “who's yer ma? can’t say i know many dames with grown daughters i aint seen before.” He leaned against the bar, pointed phalanges drumming the surface.

“Tori—” As soon as the first syllables left her lips, Sans surged forward, no longer in repose, and banded an arm around her shoulders. Frisk was pressed to his side, face buried against his chest, the smell of smoke, mustard and something spicy filling her nose. He was strong. Very strong. His grip bruising. 

“hey grillbz, i’mma take the little lady to the back to chat.”

What? The fire elemental did nothing to interfere, nor did anyone else at the restaurant. Sans manhandled her through a door, only releasing his hold once he twisted a lock behind him. When he did, he shoved her as well, sending her careening into a naked stretch of wall, head bouncing from the impact, shelves and crates boxing her in. Trapped. Frisk blinked against the shock and pain, hand reaching up to rub where her skull cracked against the wall. Then he was there, right in her face again, pulling the scarf from her neck and hood from her face. She could only stare wide-eyed as he exposed her, her disguise ripped away with a few easy flicks of his wrist. Frisk’s heart skipped and her breath caught. He knew. He knew and he was going to kill her, wasn’t he? She twisted, every instinct screaming she get away, when an icy weight settled on her sternum and squeezed. 

Magic. 

BAM!

He slammed her against the wall again—Frisk a live butterfly pinned in place by the hold he had on her soul. She was tempted to scream but no doubt it would make things worse. God, was this how she died? She thrashed, willing the magic to release her, but his hold remained true. His form filled her vision as he closed in, leaning over her, one hand planting next to her head, his face right above hers, his smile sharp and cold. 

“Let. Me. Go,” Frisk hissed, kicking at his kneecaps. He shuffled out of the way before using his weight to stifle her movement. 

“not ‘fore yer answer me a teensy tiny lil question, human,” Sans growled. “who. the. fuck. are. yer?” 

“None of your business!” If she was going to die, then she was going to go down kicking and biting. 

“naw, see, it is my business. it became my business the second yer walked in this bar. but i wuz willin’ to humor the lost lil human until yer went around spoutin’ her name like it means somethin’ to yer.”

That name? Frisk frowned, “You mean Toriel? She’s my mother you—” He bounced her against the wall again, his hands clasping tight around her shoulders. 

“there’s only one lady with that name who i know, and you runnin’ around spoutin’ it will only bring everybody trouble,” he said, almost seeming...concerned. Frisk ached from his rough handling. What else could she expect from a brute that probably worked muscle for the mafia? He probably solved all his problems with violence. “and i doubt yer have any right to sayin’ her—” Sans trailed off, eyelights dropping to her chest. Was the pervert really eying her up when he was threatening her with bodily harm?! Frisk gasped and slumped as she was unceremoniously dropped, the grasp on her soul cut, and as she caught her breath, one of those bony hand whisked against her neck, phalanges threading around the delicate gold chain resting there. In his palm glittered the heart pendant. It must have popped from under her clothes when he shook her.

“Don’t touch that,” Frisk tried to slap it from his grip, but closed his fist and yanked it off her neck, the delicate chain snapping. No! “That’s mine! My mother gave me that.” Did he want her to grovel? “I’m sorry, please, give it back.”

He held it out of reach, popping it open with a thumb to peer within. There the faces of Chara and Asriel smiled back, their photographs lovingly cut to shape and inlaid within. He sucked in a sharp breath, snapped it shut and pocketed it with one smooth motion. “consider it collateral, dollface, because yer gonna owe me fer what i’m gonna do fer yer and yer ma.” He stepped back, releasing his hold completely. She shivered.

“Owe you? What do you mean? I just want somebody to help me get medicine for my mother!”

“with what cash?”

“I...I brought things to trade. Monsterfood,” Frisk whispered, before realizing that her basket was on the floor, the contents spilled and collecting dirt. Sans laughed again.

“sweets, that wouldn’t get yer nowheres. what yer need in this neighborhood is cold, hard g,” like a magician, he made a glitter golden disc appear between his phalanges and held it up. “this aint the human district where healin’ food is scarce and is cheaper than a visit to the hospital fer when somebody pops holes in yer. and what yer needin’ is a specialty. not many folks know how to make medicine to rouse a fadin’ monster...unless she’s fallen already. then nobody can help ya, dollface. yer better off runnin’ home and waitin’ fer the dust to settle.”

“She’s not dead! Or...or fallen! She...she’s just sick…”

“monsters don’t get sick like yer humans do,” Sans replied, giving an indolent shrug. “boss monsters like toriel don’t even get old like normal monsters.” The pang of disbelief and hopelessness must have shown on her face because Sans continued, “makes one wonder if she don’t wanna live in this world no more. wouldn’t blame her. she don’t got much reason to stick around.” No. NO! Her mother wouldn’t do that to her. She loved Frisk. She wouldn’t just give up on living like that.

“Liar,” Frisk said.

“heh, yer got two choices, doll. trust the liar or close yer pretty little eyes and i’ll make sure yer soul shatters nice and quick.” His aura was a blizzard around her, sinking into her skin and bones. His sockets were black, hollow voids into the abyss. And his smile? My what a big smile he wore, his teeth jagged and gleaming, as inviting as the grin of a ravenous wolf that smelled blood in the air. His threat was no bluff. She wouldn’t leave this room alive if she didn’t agree to his terms and she knew it. Frisk swallowed and fixed her stare on his wicked face.

“You promise to help me, then?” Frisk asked, hardening her expression with as much bravado as she could muster. “You will get me the medicine to heal my mother?”

“i don’t like promises, dollface, but i do make deals.”

“What does this deal cost me?”

His eyelights bloomed back into existence and his grin went crooked, “i think we can sort out the details later. clock is tickin’ and all that.” He leaned back, “wanna shake on it?”

Did she have a choice? Frisk grabbed his hand once more and she wondered idly if she’d just made a bargain with the devil himself.

.

Sans was oddly well-mannered after he bruised her up. He fixed her clothes, picked up the dropped food, and led her out the back door into an alleyway on his arm. “i can feel yer questions, sweets, but how about we leave them to someplace a little more private.” He motioned to the walls as if they were watching them walk, and maybe they were. Monsters had strange technology from what Frisk observed. There were things in Toriel’s home that weren’t in the human district, as little of it as she’d seen over the years. 

It didn’t take too long before they reached a little medical clinic. Sans strolled inside like he owned the place, Frisk on his arm, and sauntered carelessly up the the counter, his elbow resting on the surface as he leaned to speak to the receptionist, “catty, dollface, how ya doin’? finally ditch that worthless spiv of a man?”

The feline monster hissed, her ears flicking, but there was an amused curl to her features, “Go jump in a river, Sans.”

“fraid swimmin’ with fishes aint the gig for this bag of bones. skeletons can do many thing and float aint one of them.”

Her eyes darted to frisk, “Who’s the broad?” Frisk’s jaw dropped. Was everyone she met today going to be insufferably rude?

Sans chuckled and looped an arm around Frisk, “play nice, catty. this here is my girl and i don’t wanna hear flack about my girl.”

“You dog,” Catty smiled openly. “And here I thought you were too lazy to get a girlfriend. Or maybe this one hasn’t realized that you’re trash.”

“ouch. In front of the dame, really?”

“You broke my best friend’s heart,” Catty quipped, “Now what do you want?”

“i need an appointment with the doc.”

“Since you don’t look like you’re bleeding all over the tile, I assume you want to talk business?” Sans winked. “You’re in luck, she has an opening...now.” Catty crossed something out on the papers she was shuffling through.

“you’re a peach,” Sans guided Frisk towards a door, and she noted that most of the monsters seemed to recognize him. They smiled or waved like he was an actually pleasant person. Even Catty’s dialogue with him wasn’t that of two people who hated each other. Soon they stood at the door of a little office, Dr. Alphys written on a plaque on the wall. Sans didn’t knock so much as rap his knuckles twice on the frame before walking in. The doctor—Alphys—yelped in surprise, dropping the books in her claws. She scrunched her snout at Sans and grumbled as she picked up her belongings, the white coat she wore fitted loose around her lizard-like frame. “Evenin’ alph.”

“W-what do you want?” Alphys groused, adjusting her glasses, squinting at Frisk. “Y-you should be able to p-perform a s-soul c-check yourself. You don’t need m-me to to see if you’ve knocked up s-some broad.” Why was everyone calling her that?! Frisk puffed, shoulders pinched. 

“easy there, doc, the gal’s a bit sans-itive,” Sans quipped. “and we’re not here about souling but a soul. see, her ma’s in need of some of yer top shelf stuff.”

Alphys paused, yellow complexion paling, “S-s-sans, you idiot! HE will h-have my hide if—”

“trust me, alph. it’s better that yer just name yer price.”

She fidgeted some more before grabbing a stepladder and using it to reach the top cabinet. She unlocked the door, reached in and pulled out a small box, which she brought down and unlatched by inputting the code into some puzzle mechanism. There was a click, and she lifted the lid to reveal six vials, each glowing the same red as Sans’ eyelights. She began to remove one of the vials when Sans shut the lid and pulled it towards him, earning a sputter and a gasp, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“need ‘em.”

“You know those aren’t for selling, Sans! N-no matter w-what HE says they’re t-too concentrated for—”

“trust me, alph, i know.”

They stared off for a moment before Alphys tore her gaze away to glower at Frisk, one clawed finger pointed at her hidden face, “Who the f-fuck is she, Sans?”

“...daughter of a friend.”

“A friend?”

“...her.”

Alphys fell back, near white, “D-d-don’t talk that jive to me, mister.” Sans only gave her that disconcerting wolf smile as he slid the box to himself and made it vanish into his jacket.

“put it on my tab, me and my dame got places to be,” he made for the door.

“You’re really going to u-use that on HER?”

Sans glanced back, “i’ll bring yer back my notes.”

“H-h-hope you know what you’re d-doing, Sans.”

.

Frisk was silent as they walked through near black streets. She mentally bid her mother a million apologies all the while wondering exactly what Toriel was into. Why these monsters reacted to her name as they did. Why Alphys wouldn’t even say it. To her surprise, she didn’t have to guide Sans to the tucked away house that Toriel called come, confirming that he did indeed know her mother. Otherwise, why else would he be able to walk to the front door without a word of guidance? Frisk swallowed as she let him inside, flicking on the lights and scurrying into her mother’s bedroom. There in the overlarge bed laid Toriel, haggard in her fevered sleep, white fur greyed from sweat. She muttered half words, plagued by whatever nightmares lurked in the burning haze. But she was warm. That was promising. It was when a monster chilled that it was too late. They were beyond the cusp of return. 

She stroked Toriel’s face, sitting on the edge of the bed, “I’m back, mama. I brought your friend. The one you talk to on the phone. He...he has some medicine for you. Special medicine. So you will wake up real soon, I promise, and we can go back to how we were before.” The creak of floorboards made her look up. Sans stood in the door, armed with a syringe, the cylinder filled with the fluid from the vials. He watched for a moment before crossing the room and sitting on her other side, quick to prep the injection site and plunging down the needle, moving with the quick professionalism of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

Toriel muttered something under her breath as Sans moved away.

“if she’s not dust in the next 24 hours, we’ll dose her again,” Sans said. “and keep dosin’ her until she either wakes up or dusts. course nobody has survived more than two doses, so i’d get to prayin’, dollface”

“S-survived? What did you just give her?!” Frisk’s hands were clenched tight, her whole body strung taut as a violin string. Sans laughed. She was getting tired of his laughing at her.

“yer ask that now? yer real lucky yer found me when yer did, or yer’d be in a bad way. too trusting.”

“What. Did. You. Give. Her?”

Sans adjusted his hat and made the syringe vanish into his jacket. He stood and ambled his way to where Frisk sat, looming over her, ominous as ever, “just a little liquid willpower, sweets. there is a street version you mighta heard about. dte. short fer determination.” When Frisk didn’t respond his browbones raised, “yer old lady musta sheltered yer more than i thought if yer never heard of dte. not that someone like yer would ever need it.” His lids drooped as his expression changed back to the same one he wore at the bar. The one that made her feel like he was was devouring her with his eyes. He stared right at her sternum, right where her soul rested hidden beneath bone and flesh. “now, i believe we have some negotiatin’ to do.”

Right. Sorry mama. 

She nodded and led Sans out into the living room in all its floral glory. Frisk perched on the edge of the sofa, hands on her lap, knees pressed tight, chin high. Sans dropped gracelessly into the armchair across from her, skull leaning to rest on his knuckles.

“Thank you for your help,” Frisk said. “Will you at least tell me how you and my ma know each other before we...speak of other things?”

Sans frowned, “i’d rather not, but if it’ll make our agreement easier...i’ll spill. i used to work fer yer ma back when she wasn’t tori to nobody. If anybody was callin’ her anythin’ it was belladonna. the belladonna. course that was prolly ‘fore yer wuz born. tori walked away from that part of her life after her kids died. blamed her husband. blamed the humans. blamed the monsters. she stopped trustin’ everybody ‘cept a few of us.”

“And you were one of them?”

“heh. no. not at first. smart thing too cuz her husband sent me after her. wanted her back alive or her dust in a jar. but i’ve got my ways, and i tracked down her little hidin’ spot. it was hard to pick through her barriers. if tori doesn’t wanna be found she aint gonna be, unless yer an expert at findin’ folks that don’t wanna be found.” Sans chuckled to himself. “the long and short of it, i found her. she tried to kill me. we ended up bondin’ over the fact that her husband’s crazier than a loon. it don’t matter really. but in time, i started visitin’ her, learned that she’s much a master of disguise and deception as she is as, heh, her namesake, and just wanted to live out her retirement from the life in peace and quiet. so i left her alone. called now and then to trade bad joke wit her. made sure to deal with anybody that caused her trouble. figured if she could dodge asgore’s goons well enough to get groceries, she’d be fine. are we friends? too strong a word, honestly, the belladonna doesn’t have friends. she has allies. supporters. yes men.”

“Why was she called Belladonna?”

Sans thumbed towards the kitchen, “cuz her treats used to have a lil extra kick. asgore’s garden used to house all her special plants. the ones she’d bake into pies for..unwanted guests.” Her mother had been a poisoner? No. No! Toriel was a little odd but she wouldn’t poison people on purpose. R-right? “heh. that look on your face tells me you had no idea. yer ma really did tell yer nothin’ ‘bout anythin’.”

“She was a good mother! Stop mocking me for not knowing things.”

“easy dollface, i’m a patient man, but even i get a little tired of bein’ shouted out by an uppity dame.” Sans clicked his teeth when Frisk looked away, arms crossed, shoulders pinched. “now that we’ve established that you’re ma aint the next mother mary, let’s talk business.” He withdrew a cigar from his jacket and lit it with a flick of his fingertips. Another magic trick. It made Frisk want a smoke of her own. She didn’t light up much, but every now and then she swiped a death stick from Toriel’s stash. As smoke filled his skull and leaked through his sockets like dragon’s breath, he patted his knee. Expectant. “how’s ‘bout yer get a lil closer. already said i wouldn’t bite unless yer asked real nice.”

“I am NOT sitting on your lap.”

Sans shrugged, “can’t blame this bag of bones fer tryin’. suit yerself.” He took another drag and began to blow rings through his teeth. “now, that one dose of dte costs a shiny g. not only that, but i got it fer yer without the hoops and bamboozling and I didn’t rip yer soul out in the backroom grillby’s like i’m supposed ta. yer owe me big, dollface.”

“I...mama has money. I’m sure when she wakes up she will be able to pay back the gold you’ve spent on her medicine.”

“and if she don’t wake up?”

“S-she will.”

“what if yer aint the one she’s left all her worldly possessions to? yer are a human. then yer broke with nothin’ and nobody. not even a roof over yer head once he enchantment comes down and folks can find this place proper.”

“Stop that! I’ll find a way, even then! I’ll...I’ll work. I’ll work day and night to pay you back your money.”

Sans stood up, closing in, cigar fixed between his fangs, “oh you will all right. but not in some human diner as a waitress, or whatever other kind of gig somebody wit no life skills or experience can get in this town.” He reached out a clawed hand and ran a phalange down the side of her face. Frisk flinched. “don’t worry, dollface, i can be a real nice man if yer let me be good to ya.”

“I don’t like what you are implying, Mister Skeleton,” Frisk shifted away, only for Sans to close in more, hand on her upper thigh. “Hands. Off. I didn’t give you permission to touch me. I am not a...a...woman you can proposition!”

He patted her leg like one might an affectionate dog, “cute that yer think yer have some kind of moral high ground to stand on. everybody got their reasons and their price. and sweets? yer don’t got a lot of options. yer owe me. and my price fer the dte? heh. that little red soul in yer chest would cover the cost juuuuust fine.”

“You want my soul?!” She did make a deal with the devil!

“yep. course i’d prefer it if its fleshy home was around too. just a soul has limited usage, but a living human, well, that works far better fer what i have in mind. and if yer behave real nice, yer might even be able to walk away and never see my ugly mug again. get that waitress job in the slums. no harm, no foul and all that jazz. iffin that’s what yer want when that time comes around.”

Frisk swallowed, “W-well it won’t matter what I’d choose. Mama will wake up and make this whole conversation pointless.”

Sans merely pat her leg again before moving away, “of course. wuz gettin’ ahead of m’self, wasn’t i?” And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Frisk with her thoughts and the sickly sweet reek of smoke itching at her nose.

.

The next day, Toriel did not wake and once more, Sans injected her with DTE. He and Frisk mostly avoided each other, him thankfully vanishing for hours from the house, leaving Frisk to her solitude. She busied herself with chores, dusting and other such tasks, and cried when Toriel’s fever broke. She was getting better! Come day three and another injection, Toriel stopped muttering in her sleep, and a certain glow returned to her features. A vibrance long lost illuminating through her whole body, like her soul was shining but the radiance made her fur glimmer instead. Had she ever looked this bright? This healthy?

It was early morning on the fourth day when Toriel stirred, opening her eyes as Frisk sat on her bedside, reading a book aloud. She stumbled over the words and dropped the novel, throwing herself onto the goat monster with a sob, “Mama! You are awake Mama! It worked. It really, really worked!”

“My child...what—” she stiffened in Frisk’s embrace, her crimson eyes on the doorway. There, leaning against the frame, was Sans. 

“how a-door-able,” he knocked on the frame before sauntering into the room. “feelin’ better, tori?”

Toriel moved quick, rolling Frisk under her defensively, “What are you doing in my house, Sans?”

“Mama?”

“awe, don’t be like that, thought we were friends. i wuz invited by the little gal. she went out into the big, bad monster district and brought me here cuz yer were sick and she wuz worried.” He was closer now, grinning that too wide grin as Toriel lifted her paw, her soul flashing in her chest as she summoned a violet flame. “tori, tori, tori. after all these years of friendship, yer go and threaten me like this?”

“Do not act the fool, Judge. Your loyalty is only to yourself. Not me, not HIM. Now out of my house.”

“nah. see, the girlie owes me a debt,” he pulled the golden locket from his jacket and let it dangle between his phalanges. “got the proof right here.”

Toriel shook her head, “No. No. My daughter wouldn’t betray me like that!”

“Mama? Mama! You’re hurting me.”

“cross my heart, hope to die. frisky bits approached me by name. and yer know i’m a monster of my word. and i said i’d help get medicine for her dear, dyin’ ma.”

“Medicine? Dying?” Her hand trembled and the flame sputtered out. 

“not many things make a boss monster sick enough to fall down. or near fall down.” Sans said this with all the assurance of a man that knew too much. All his concern was gone, replaced fully by wolfish hunger. Toriel let out a cry and once more her magic surged, fire lashing across the room in bright beams. Sans dodged out of the way effortlessly. 

“Traitor!” What was going on? Why were they fighting? Why would Sans provoke Toriel into a fight right after healing her? Weren’t they friends? Frisk whimpered as Toriel’s grip became harsher. Hotter. Searing. Wild eyes turned to her, “Both of you. Traitors.”

“W-what? No! You were sick and I g-got help! You said Sans’ name in your sleep. I-I heard you talking to him on the phone. I thought he was your friend! He said he k-knew you. Please, Mama, stop hurting me.”

“tick tock, time’s runnin’ out, belladonna. i made good on my promise. kept up my end of every deal. nothin’ changed.”

“I see. You are scum. Same as HIM. Same as all of them! Monsters. Humans. Nobody is pure. Not even...not even my own daughter. Even she betrayed me in the end.” Her eyes were teary as the hand on Frisk’s chest continued to heat until it felt like she was branding her touch on her sternum. Frisk could do nothing else but scream. It hurt. It hurt and she didn’t understand why she was being hurt! Then suddenly, the pain stopped, the pressure on her chest giving way. W-what? Frisk peeked open eyes she didn’t realize were shut to see a horrific sight. Toriel—her mother—was melting. MELTING! Her fur dripped like hot wax, her arm a collapsed candle. And Frisk was covered! She gurgled and Frisk shrieked, kicking and struggling until she landed on the floor, still covered in goop. It was wrong, wrong, wrong!

“heh. hehehe. whoops. musta given yer a little too much dte. hard to get a hold of the stuff, y’know. human souls only produce so much of it before they break. unless, of course, yer keep the host alive.” He strolled over to where Frisk laid helpless on the floor. “whelp, get up sweets, or do i need to throw yer over my shoulder? we got places to be.”

“Y-you d-did this. You k-killed her!”

“naw, she aint dead. she aint ever gonna die. hehe. more than held up my end of the deal.”

“What did you do!”

“what yer asked me to do. now up, aint gonna ask again.”

Frisk ignored the sensation of her mother’s melted form literally dripping down her chest, and the sound of her pained gurgles on the bed, and stared at Sans. Her hand twitched, brushing against the spine of the novel she dropped earlier, and self-preservation screamed to life. She grabbed the book and surged to her feet with a yell, swinging it down at Sans’ head. He ducked her clumsy blow as well as the next. Then he caught her wrists and twisted until she dropped her improv weapon, leaving her to knee him in the pelvis. That one worked. He sputtered and groaned before tossing her over his shoulder like he threatened.

“Why why why? She was your friend! Y-you…”

“heh. she knew from day one that i might try to kill her. only reason i never tried wuz because gettin’ close enough to try was suicide. told ya, the belladonna don’t have friends. she has allies. and until yer walked into the bar, i had no reason to break our truce. but that soul of yers, well, how wuz i to resist? hehe. don’t know what made the old goat lose hope, maybe she saw yer flirting with some human in the market and thought yer wuz gonna leave her, or something reminded her that yer human and will die some day and she’ll be back to bein’ alone. but now it don’t matter. everyone gets what they want.” He laughed again. “yer ma got her medicine. asgore gets revenge on his wife. and i get you. my own personal supply of determination.”

“Why? Why did you hurt her? You could have just kidnapped me like you’re doing right now,” Frisk whispered, the fight starting to leave her, shock settling in like a chill.

“what would have been the fun in that?”

.

“Where are you going?” asked the wolf.

“To find a doctor, my mother is terribly ill!” 

“I can help you,” he offered, his words so sincere. But his smile, it was strange, and so terribly frightful. Why was he so close?

“My what big teeth you have,” said the girl to the wolf.

“All the better to eat you with, my dear,” he replied, grinning ever wider.

Nobody heard her scream.

.

“yer done, dollface? we got a meetin’ with the doc in an hour.”

Frisk laid down the pencil in her hand and crumpled the paper she was writing on. Painted lips parted as she forced on a smile, like a picture perfect doll. She rose from her seat and padded to the door, her stockinged feet silent against wood, “Just need to put on my shoes.” Sans opened the door and raked his eyelights from her neatly done hair to her toes.

“don’t yer look pretty enough to eat,” he rasped. “that dress really makes yer soul...pop.”

He dressed her in red. Only red. Ever since he brought her home, it was the only color he provided. As long as she didn’t fuss, didn’t ask any questions, or made him look bad in front of his ‘friends’, he showered her in pretty things. All the things a girl could ask for. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, perfume. In return, he had her soul.

“remember the rules, frisk? stay at my side. do as your told. and don’t talk to strangers.”

**Author's Note:**

> -fin-


End file.
